


Initiation

by whiteduck6



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Twins, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, I just really wanted to write this its very self indulgent, Like a smidgen of angst, a paragraph of angst, and also some internalized ableism, hank Anderson & upgraded Connor - Freeform, im gonna be real with you this doesn't really have a plot, its an intro to Connor and nines and what they're doing at uni basically, there's some intros to other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteduck6/pseuds/whiteduck6
Summary: DBH University AU feat. every character I can cram in here“We should visit with some other people,” Nines suggested. “We need to interact with people other than each other this year.”Connor looked at him dubiously. “Me? Interacting with other people? Surely you’re joking. The two of us together will be a disaster.”“Come on,” Nines said, opening the door and stepping outside, calling back to Connor loud enough that everyone else knew there was someone in the room with him. “Don’t be one of those weirdos who never leaves their room.”





	Initiation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [D:BH Human/Twin AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/464393) by Rin. 



> Hi! This was very self-indulgent as the tag says and there isn't a whole lot of plot, mostly character introductions but in a perfect world I'll be writing more for this au soon! please enjoy!

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Hank, the man who had taken Connor and Nines in after their previous caregiver had died, stood up, his knees cracking noisily. 

“Uhf, not as young as I used to be,” Hank muttered, partially to himself.

“The crunching is just cartilage becoming rough,” Connor piped up unhelpfully. “It happens as you age.”

Hank stared at his older son blankly. Connor stared right back at him, just as blank as he rolled a coin across his knuckles.

“You kids gonna be okay?” He asked, glancing at the two boys. He had been helping them set up their dorm, but even he had to admit it was pretty much done. He didn’t really have any other excuses for being here, other than being a sappy old man. 

“We’ll be fine,” Nines assured him, glancing at Connor. 

“I’ll make sure to text you if anything happens,” Connor said.

“Sumo’ll miss you,” Hank said. 

Nines stepped up to him, hugging him tightly. Nines had always been the more socially perceptive of the two. 

After several long moments, Hank pulled himself away from his son. “Come on, I can’t give one to Nines and not you,” he said, hugging Connor as well. It was a thinly-veiled excuse and all three of them knew it. 

When he’d finally finished dragging out his goodbyes, he said goodbye to his boys and started the long drive home, the car feeling a lot emptier than it had in a long time.

—

Their room was Spartan in its layout. A small room with white walls, a grey, thinning carpet, and two twin beds on either side, two identical desks at their feet. Nines had plain white sheets made of bamboo, one of the few fabrics that didn’t feel like sandpaper against his skin. His textbooks were organized on his desk, and a white messenger bag was hung across the back of the chair.

Nines liked white. It was a plain colour, easy on the eyes and usually didn’t have any patterns on it.

Connor had dragged his queen-sized comforter all the way from their home so he could still get what he called the “full immersion experience” as he slept, meaning he would wrap the comforter around himself so tightly that if there was a fire, he would never be able to unravel himself in time. His sheets were baby blue with a subtle black dog print on them, the comforter overflowing onto the floor. 

Connor’s desk had a small stuffed Saint Bernard he had had since they were children on it. Other than the desks and the sheets, the room was cold, impersonal. 

Nines liked it that way.

He didn’t like a lot of visual stimulus — he didn’t like patterns, or bright colours, or sunny days, or keeping his devices on full brightness. He liked things to be all one colour, somewhat desaturated. 

The eggshell-white of the walls was maybe his most ideal wall colour.

“We should visit with some other people,” Nines suggested. “We need to interact with people other than each other this year.”

Connor looked at him dubiously. “Me? Interacting with other people? Surely you’re joking. The two of us together will be a disaster.”

“Come on,” Nines said, opening the door and stepping outside, calling back to Connor loud enough that everyone else knew there was someone in the room with him. “Don’t be one of those weirdos who never leaves their room.”

Connor sighed heavily, flicking his coin from hand to hand. The soft metallic _ding_ of it as it struck Connor’s palms didn’t bother Nines, but he knew it might disturb others. He made a mental note to get Connor to find a quieter stim while they were here.

Thankfully, several doors were open through the hall. Nines led them — he wouldn’t say he was any better at interacting with people than Connor was, but he was better at masking, and mimicking social behaviour came easily, if not naturally, to him. Nines stopped at the first open door he saw, four down from theirs.

Inside was two identical blond boys, one of whom was hanging a graphic poster of a death metal band up. 

“Do we have to keep that up, Daniel?” The boy on the left grimaced.

“If I have to put up with your twinkly-ass _fairy lights,_ ” Daniel said, saying _fairy lights_ like they were the worst thing in the world, “then you get to live with Cannibal Corpse.”

“Urgh, it makes me feel sick,” the first boy said. “Fairy lights are good for your eyes and they’re softer than a lamp — I figured you’d appreciate that since we’re going to have so many late nights.”

The pair still hadn’t noticed Nines hovering awkwardly in their doorway, Connor lingering behind him like a ghost, and, despite himself, Nines was considering just walking away and leaving them to their business when the first boy glanced over at them, did a double take, and jumped nearly out of his skin.

“Sorry,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “You scared me. God. I guess you’re new here, too?”

“First year,” Nines said, stepping into the room because that’s what people did when a conversation was initiated. He held out his hand for the boy to shake. “My name’s Nines.”

“Simon,” the boy said. “And who’s your friend?”

“My brother, Connor,” Nines said, and Connor took a moment to compose himself and put his Normal People Face on before stepping into the room. 

“Nice to meet you,” Connor said, deftly palming his coin and extending his hand. Simon shook it and smiled, albeit a bit confusedly. 

“You’re so formal,” Simon said. “What are you studying?” 

“Criminal justice,” Nines and Connor said at the same time, then Connor threw a sharp glance Nines’ way, like he should have known he was asking Connor. 

_I’m not a mind reader!_ Nines thought, desperately wishing, in that moment, that his brother was so he could chew him out. 

“Oh, that’s serious,” Simon laughed weakly. “I’m doing social work. Daniel’s doing medicine.”

“‘M not good with kids,” Daniel muttered through several thumbtacks in his mouth as he hung up another poster. 

“Anyway,” Simon said, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “You said criminal justice? Both of you? What are you hoping to do with that?”

This time, Connor kept his mouth shut. “Our father is a police lieutenant,” Nines said, clasping his hands behind his back. “We’re hoping to follow in his footsteps.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Simon looked like he had no idea what they were talking about. 

There were several moments of uncomfortable silence. 

“I . . . guess I shouldn’t keep you,” Simon said, the end of his sentence lilting up like he was asking a question. _I guess I shouldn’t keep you?_

“Hopefully we get to talk again soon,” Nines said. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Simon said, still looking a little nervous. 

Connor all but fled the room, flicking his coin between his hands at lightning speed as soon as he was past the threshold. 

“We have to do that with _everyone?_ ” Connor hissed. 

“You’ll like it in the long run,” Nines hissed back. “It’s better than staying alone in your room all day. That’s how people become serial killers. You should know that better than anyone, nerd.”

“We are getting the exact same degree here, Nines,” Connor said, “you can’t say I’m a nerd now.”  
“Nerd. Just did.”

Connor sighed, but there was light in his eyes. Nines felt his lips quirk up very slightly in the corners. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll only make you do this the once, and then I’ll leave you alone for a while to . . . do whatever you do in your off time.”

“Nines, we’ve lived together all our lives,” Connor said, hurrying to catch up with Nines’ long strides down the corridor. “You know what I do in my off time.” 

“It was a joke, Con,” Nines said. “Come on. There’s only, like, two more open doors. The rest are recluses like you.”

“Oh, you mean sane people?” Connor bit, ending his jab abruptly when they arrived at the next open door. There was three people in the room, with one of the beds against the wall being a bunk bed. 

Sitting on the top bunk was a girl with red hair, wearing an eclectic mix of an off-the-shoulder sweater, shorts, and cowboy boots. She was chewing gum, occasionally blowing a large bubble and doing tricks with a butterfly knife as her two roommates tried to put together an armchair. 

Again, Nines was struck by the urge to just leave and pretend he hadn’t seen them — he really didn’t want to say the wrong thing and get on the knife-wielding girl’s bad side — but Connor, it seemed, had no such reservations.

“Have you tried putting the legs on first? It’ll probably help stabilize the structure.”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to stare at Connor. Nines clenched his fists tightly behind his back. For all his experience mimicking social niceties, he still wasn’t good at predicting people’s reactions. 

“Uh,” one of the boys, wearing a soft maroon shirt, said, “no? Markus, can you—?”

The other boy, who was wearing a black asymmetrical v-neck shirt and what looked like black yoga pants, stood up and grabbed four small wooden legs for the chair. They flipped it over, attached the legs, and stood it back up, the back of the armchair sliding into place without a struggle.

“Wow, thanks,” Markus said. “That actually worked. Are you in architecture?” 

“No,” Connor said. There were several moments of expectant silence.

Nines jabbed Connor in the spine as subtly as he could, shooting him a glance. “I-I’m studying criminal justice,” Connor said, glancing nervously at Nines before turning back to Markus. “What about yourself?”

“Art,” Markus said. “Josh is doing education. North’s in law.”

“Law? I wouldn’t have expected that,” Nines said. “Are you going to become a lawyer?”

North snorted. “I’m gonna become a cop. I want to help stop human trafficking.”

“That’s a lofty goal,” Nines said, raising his eyebrows slightly. “I wish you luck.”

“That’s a lofty goal,” North mimicked. “Suck my dick. I’m gonna be fuckin’ _great_ at it.” 

“I have no doubt that you will,” Nines said, smiling softly at her. She was abrasive, and crass, and didn’t seem to like him very much. But Nines was beginning to like her. 

“Do you have any other furniture you need help with?” Connor asked, startling Nines out of his reverie. 

“No . . .” Josh said, looking at Markus a little warily. “I don’t think so?”

“No, but thanks for your help,” Markus said, looking at Josh with the same hesitant expression before glancing back to Connor. “Anyway, we shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

Nines understood the dismissal for what it was. “It was nice to meet you,” he said. “North, I look forward to seeing you again.”

She rolled her eyes as Nines practically dragged Connor out of the room. North kicked the door shut behind them, the harsh _slam_ a period on the end of their conversation. 

“They seemed nice,” Connor said. “I’m excited to learn more about them. I can’t be sure, but I think Markus is Carl Manfred’s son.”

“Who?” Nines asked. 

“Carl Manfred, the painter,” Connor said, a bit impatiently as though Nines should be a walking encyclopedia like Connor was. “He’s very famous.”

“Why do you care? The closest you come to enjoying art is analyzing spatter patterns.”

“If Markus Manfred is at this school,” Connor said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “that means this school was good enough to attract someone who could have gone anywhere. That bodes well for our education.”

“God, you’re such a geek,” Nines muttered as they walked back to their dorm. On the way, they passed a closed door that was blasting loud electronic music, where it hadn’t before. Nines silently thanked whoever was listening that the music enthusiast wasn’t their neighbour. 

“We’re basically finished unpacking,” Nines stated, staring at their room. “We should go outside. Get a feel for the campus.”

“Hank made us go on a tour already.” 

“I know,” Nines said, already pulling on his white wool coat, “but I want to refresh my memory.”

He certainly wasn’t going to admit that he was antsy beyond belief and was certain he would explode if he didn’t move soon.

Connor, thankfully, didn’t argue further. He could be an immovable object when he wanted to be. “Alright,” he said, shrugging on his own jacket. “Let’s go then.”

—

That evening, Nines desperately didn’t want to go to the student cafeteria for dinner. 

“I heard someone saying that everyone was going to be there,” Connor was saying, bouncing on his toes near their door. “You said you wanted to meet people. This would be a great opportunity.”

“You can go if you want,” Nines said. “But it’s been a _long_ day for me. Please don’t make me go.”

“Are you stressed? Are you overstimulated?” 

“Jesus, Connor,” Nines snapped. “Don’t say that here.”

“. . . stressed or over—“

“You know exactly what I mean. I would love for these people to think I’m as capable as they are, and for that to happen, I need to act — and _you_ need to act — as normal and neurotypical as possible, and part of that facade requires you to not know the word ‘overstimulated,’ got it?”

Connor met Nines’ icy gaze head-on. For all his softness when he was in a good mood, Connor could be just as much of a nightmare as Nines when he wanted to be.

“Fine then,” Connor said. “Hide a part of yourself. I’m not telling you to—to fucking tell everyone here that you’re autistic, but, Nines, it’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care,” Nines said. “Are you going or not?”

Connor sighed, toeing off his shoes and turning off the light. He shuffled over to where Nines was sitting on his bed, clumsily feeling around for a few minutes before wrapping his arms around Nines, squeezing as tightly as he could. 

“I’m not going to just leave you here,” Connor said. “You’re my brother. Ultimately, I’ll support you. But let yourself go a little bit. The world isn’t as cruel as you think it is.”

Nines sucked in a bone-deep breath, letting it out slowly as he sank into his brother’s grip.

“I’ll try,” Nines said. “But this world is cruel. It’s not built for people like us.”

“Then change it,” Connor said. 

“That’s what I’m hoping to do,” Nines muttered. 

He was trying to console himself. _This isn’t going to be like high school,_ he thought. _Fresh start. No one knows you here. It’s going to be fine as long as you can act normally._

He hoped that was true.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! as always constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated!


End file.
